


Where the Streets Have No Name

by ChibiKinesis



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Continuation, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-06-22 12:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiKinesis/pseuds/ChibiKinesis
Summary: ”As for myself… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll finally travel to the Southwest. My father was always convinced that there was another alien city buried somewhere in the Mojave Desert.”When you're faced with the notion of your own mortality, what else is left for you to do but live?





	1. Worry Worry Worry

If there was one word that could sum up the trek back home from Parsons State Insane Asylum, it was  _awkward_. It was  _slow_ , and it was  _clumsy_ , and most troublesome of all, it was  _quiet_. Yes, Edward supposed, awkward seemed sufficient enough a word for it.

Jack was uncharacteristically sullen as he shouldered a steadily increasing portion of his bodyguard’s weight. In the spray of gunfire, the ghoul had taken more damage than he’d readily admit, though that was nothing new. Under better circumstances, Jack surely would have nagged him for not speaking up sooner, for not taking his injuries seriously enough, or quite likely both of those offenses. It was a minor tiff that Edward had been fully prepared for; one he’d been through  _so many times before_ , but it was ultimately one that never came that day.

Not even as he sat planted firmly on the kitchen island back at Cabot House, under Jack’s scrutinizing gaze and careful hands.

Edward glanced down at the tools and the chunks of metal in the blood-smeared surgical tray that lay near him on the formica counter, the interesting curvature of the mangled bullets that Jack had -

A jolt of pain ripped through him as the scientist’s tweezers unearthed yet another bullet, and he drew a sharp breath through clenched teeth. Startled, Jack looked up at him, concern etched into his features as the ghoul slowly released the tense breath. It felt like the first time their eyes had met since they’d made it home safely.

“Sorry, Jack… didn’t mean to scare ya’. It just, uh…  _smarted_ a little.” Edward offered a somber smile and a half-hearted chuckle as he relaxed again. He’d generally had a pretty high pain tolerance, but there was something about the way Jack used those tweezers that could bring him to his knees, even after the countless bullets he’d extracted over the years. “How many more of those little bastards you still gotta’ dig outta’ me, anyway?”

“I think that was the last of them.” Jack informed, placing the small metallic torture device down into the tray with all the spent ammunition he’d recovered. “Sorry.”

He could feel Edward’s eyes trailing him as he dipped his bloodied hands into the bowl of water next to the steel tray, and wrung the excess liquid from the towel inside. Maneuvering closer to the ghoul, he began working to wipe the dried blood on his arm and chest and stomach. He knew that Edward was waiting for him to speak his peace, or waiting for the right window of opportunity to voice his own thoughts, but neither seemed to be working in his favor.

Sometimes, when they’d bickered, or had verbal spats in years past, or when Jack was just being  _plain old petty_ , he would withhold - a playful test of patience, to see who would crack under the pressure of the silent treatment or the cold shoulder first. He sincerely hoped that Edward knew such wasn’t the case this time. There was  _so much_ he wanted to say, if only he could find the  _words_ , much less the  _energy_.

They sat in silence for a short while, allowing the scientist the chance to finish cleaning his guard’s wounds, and to start the arduous process of bandaging them. He never minded patching Edward up, though. It got him away from his work for a while, it got them some time together, and it let him feel like he was actually doing something worthwhile. Often, he wondered if the research he’d poured his heart and soul into for all those years was actually  _going_ anywhere -

“You okay?” The ghoul finally rasped, lowering his head to meet Jack’s surprised gaze.

It took a full moment for the question to register as he skillfully wrapped the last bandage, but Jack breathed a small, bitter laugh through his nose.  _Typical Edward_. “I just dug  _five bullets_  out of you, and  _you’re_ the one asking if  _I’m_ okay?”

“I’ve been through worse.” He chuckled, an attempt to entice a laugh - a real one - out of the man, though he knew it was all for naught. His stance, his eyes, and his voice softened as he shifted closer, pressing his forehead to Jack’s. “It’s nothin’ I can’t handle.  _Trust_ me. It’s you I’m worried about.”

He studied his boss’s face; the tremble in his features as his facade had begun to crumble, the curve of his frown, the mist in his eyes. There had only been a handful of times in the last two centuries he’d seen the man this way. It broke his heart, and if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure how Jack had kept it together since they’d left  Parsons. But he had a creeping suspicion that he was about to come unglued.

The scientist’s hands collapsed to his sides in defeat. He could feel that sensation that he so wholly loathed beginning to prick at his eyes, and a burning in his nostrils. If there was anything he hated more than crying, it was the added insult and humiliation of having Edward there to witness it. Sure as he was that his stalwart bodyguard would be more than okay to help him through a meltdown, he hated the mere idea. He thought to turn tail and run, but -

“Jack, you… you  _know_ you don’t have to deal with this all on your own…  _don’t_ you?” Edward slithered his hand around his waist and pulled him closer - slowly and gently, his ruined lips fostering a gentle peck against Jack’s forehead - and he rested his chin against an unusually disheveled head of dark hair. With a gentle squeeze, he held him a little tighter against his bandaged chest, and breathed a tired sigh. “You wanna’ talk about it?”

“Not  _really_.” Jack mouthed, laughing bitterly. He could feel the dam growing weaker, and against his better judgement, he pulled away from the warm embrace. “I… I can’t do this right now, Edward.”

He backed away, a sorrowful expression on his face. After a moment’s hesitation, he dipped his head in shame and fled to the comfort and seclusion of his bedroom.

It hurt, even more than the stinging and burning of the bullet wounds. More than it probably  _should_ have, but Edward was quick to remind himself that old habits die hard, and more often than not, even after all those years, Jack still tried to deal with things on his own. Especially those of an emotional nature. However, he would be the first to admit that he couldn’t begin to fathom the things that Jack was thinking or feeling after everything that had transpired that day.

He’d just have to give Jack a bit of time to process it all. It’s all he really  _could_  do.

Jack could hardly begin to fathom it all himself - even in the confines of his bedroom, away from anyone and anything, all he could find it in himself to do was pace as he fought his tears. It suddenly hit him - just how empty the house felt without Lorenzo - perhaps the hardest it had hit him in the entirety of his long life. Because even if Lorenzo wasn’t  _physically_ there with them, he was there in  _spirit_ , keeping Jack busy -  _always_ busy - working tirelessly on a way to get  _his father_  back. Whatever may have been left of his father inside that shell of a man he called Lorenzo, whatever tiny shreds of hope he still had of saving him, and the better part of his life’s work, were  _gone_ at the press of a button.

_It was over._

And it was when he finally admitted that much to himself - and the reality began to sink in - that the tears began to spill of their own volition. Defeated, Jack sunk down onto the edge of his bed, took off his glasses, and simply  _let them_  as his thoughts ran amok.

Lorenzo was  _gone_ , and his  _father_ gone  _with_ him. Jack  _hated_ how the man had seemingly become two separate entities over the passage of time, though he supposed it hardly mattered anymore. He’d spent four centuries - four  _long_ ,  _trying_ centuries - reaching for a goal that he, if he was being honest with himself, had never even been terribly certain he’d be able to grasp. Perhaps it was doomed from the start. Perhaps he was just setting himself up for a miserable, painful defeat.

Was he mourning  _his father_? Or was he mourning the  _four hundred years_  he  _wasted_ trying to achieve the impossible? All those years of research, and experimentation, and hard work, and sleepless nights, and putting his own wellness - and often even his own happiness - on the back burner, all on the sheer  _chance_ that he  _might_ have been able to save his father?  _Lifetimes_ worth of effort, and not a  _single wretched thing_  to show for it but a miserable failure.  _His_ miserable failure.

But his was a failure that wouldn’t just affect  _him_ ; what of  _Mother_? What of  _Emogene_? How would he even  _begin_ to tell them that not only was Lorenzo  _dead_ , but that the deed had been done by Jack’s own hands? He’d always  _assumed_ they would understand - that in some corner of their minds, they knew it would come to this eventually - and he assumed the same from himself; for so long, he’d  _told_ himself that there was little possibility of a happy ending to this whole mess. He’d had  _lifetimes_ to try to process and come to terms with it, but in spite of all that, there he lay, curled up in his bed like a small child, an unrelenting ache in his chest, his face half-buried in a damp pillow, and his tired eyes swollen from a stream of tears that didn’t seem to want to stop.

And just like the tears did, the  _thoughts_ kept coming, in spite of his deepest wishes. He could say with confidence that he’d never felt so lost or hopeless as he did in that moment, in the entirety of his long life - and he hated it even more than he’d thought he would.

What would he even  _do_ with himself now? He'd spent  _so much_  of his life dedicated to his research of the artifact, and everything related to it, that he'd all but forgotten what it felt like to indulge in his own research. The last time had probably been -  _Gods_ , it must have been shortly after the bombs fell, when he was tending to a sickly Edward at Parsons, and taking notes on his  _strange condition_. He'd actually enjoyed the venture, in  _retrospect_ , and it was always something he'd wanted to pick back up, if ever he had the chance. If only it were under happier circumstances. But he supposed now was as good a time as any, even if it was about 200 years later than he'd hoped for.

If there was anything that could be said for the span of his life, it was that there was a certain degree of comfort in the routine and the predictability of it all. Or, that was to say, of the better part of it, anyway. Even in the  _wasteland_... no,  _especially_ in the wasteland. They had it made, and Jack wasn't too proud to admit that.  But maybe they'd all gotten too comfortable in the monotony; taken it for granted, and, after so long, just begun to assume that nothing would change. As long as Lorenzo was kept locked in that basement, and as long as Jack was able to keep making the Serum -

Oh,  _God_ , the  _ **Serum**_.

The thought alone stirred up an overwhelming feeling of nausea in the pit of his stomach. That single epiphany cancelled out all of his other concerns in the  _worst way possible_  - all of the worries that were bombarding him, all his jumbled thoughts, all his darkest fears, and deepest wishes...  _did any of it even matter now?_

_Sure_ , they'd kept an emergency stash of the Serum locked away, but... how long would it even  _last_? Between the three of them? Was it even  _worth it_  to keep taking it? Or should he just accept his fate? There was still so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to learn, so much he wanted to see... he and -

Oh,  _Edward_.

The sheer notion of having a limit on his time left with Edward was finally his undoing; Jack's face contorted against his will as he felt another swell of tears coming on. The faintest cry finally escaped his tired lungs, and he burrowed his face further into his pillow to quell it - to quell the onslaught that he felt coming, try as he may to stop it. Every bone in his body ached, every limb, every muscle, but  _none_ more than his  _heart_.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, or whether or not he had fallen asleep, but he knew that when he finally stirred again, day had long since faded into night. Shuffling out of bed, he made his way to the his door. The house was still deathly quiet, and the lights still burning bright as he looked around the corner for any signs of life.

"Mother?" He called, his voice just a bit hoarse. His feet led him just across the hallway, to her cracked door, where he peeked in to find a gently stirring lump under her blanket.

_Good, she's asleep_ , he thought. A relieved sigh escaped him. He was far too physically and mentally exhausted to deal with her just yet. He couldn't say when he'd ever  _truly_ be ready to tell her everything, but he knew this was his chance to better prepare for when the time did come.

A glance down the hallway, to Emogene's bedroom door, made Jack wonder if perhaps she'd returnedyet, but deep down he already knew his answer.  _I do hope she comes home soon. But I suppose in the meantime…_

It wasn’t uncommon for him to venture out of his room at night, when the house was quiet, and the world seemed like it was asleep. Frequent were the evenings he’d sneak downstairs seeking Edward’s company - but it felt even more imperative to see him now that he was faced with the notion of his own mortality.

Stepping lightly, evading all of the creaky, tattletale floorboards with practiced ease, he made his way back downstairs; past his lab, past the parlor, and down to the basement. There was no doubt that Edward had already laid down, but Jack peeked into the kitchen for good measure anyway. He wasn't surprised to find no evidence left of the mess of bloody clothes and bandages and spent bullets that had cluttered the counter earlier.  _Of course_ ; even in his compromised condition, Edward would  _still_ try to tidy up. The tiniest smile tugged at his lips.

Clearly Edward wasn't there, but the sound of a familiar, nervous DJ could be heard at a low volume in the room nextdoor was a fair indicator as to where Jack could find the ghoul. He gave three gentle taps at the door before opening it enough to look in. An expectant pair of bloodshot eyes soon found his in the dimly lit room; unspoken permission to enter.

"You, ah... wanna' split a sandwich?" Jack asked, doing his best to feign a chuckle in his voice, though he knew it was all in vain.

Still, Edward humored him with a small smile as he stamped out his cigarette butt. It had been a running joke between them; since the first time they'd happened to bump into one another in that kitchen late one night, two hundred and some odd years ago, and had their first actual conversation over a sandwich that Edward had offered to share with him.

Without even having to be asked, the ghoul shifted position, careful of his wounds as he made room for Jack to lie down. He settled into his new position with a strained grunt, readily wrapping his arms around the scientist after he'd joined him. There was a quiet thank you spoken before Jack nestled in against him, basking in the comfort and warmth he’d denied himself earlier.

”Edward?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m…  _sorry_ for taking off earlier.”

A rumble rose in the ghoul’s throat as he smiled. “Don’t sweat it.”

It was a tight squeeze for the two of them in Edward’s bed, in his dark, dusty little room, but there was something oddly comforting about it; something about it that felt so detached from the rest of the house. An escape of sorts.

Jack wasn’t sure how long they had laid there. If he was being honest, his entire concept of  'time’ felt skewed, even moreso than it typically did, since they had left Parsons. It all felt like a bad dream that he was still trying to wake up from. But it was certainly no dream, and there was assuredly no waking up from it. This was their reality now, for better or for worse.

Edward stirred, as much as he could given their crammed quarters and their tangled limbs, his groggy eyes opening just a bit to look at Jack. His glasses off, it was only easier to see the turmoil that was scrawled into his features, and Edward did his best to hug him just a little closer.

“Hey. I  _know_ it hurts…” He rasped softly. “- but… it’ll be alright.”

“ _Will_ it though?” Jack asked, a sense of hopelessness at his insides as he buried his face in the crook of Edward’s gnarled neck.

“You’ll figure  _somethin_ ’ out.” Edward reassured.  "You always  _do_.“

"But… I  _don’t_. If I  _did_ , we… we wouldn’t be in this predicament in the  _first place_.  _You_ got  _hurt,_  and  _I_ … I couldn’t  _save_ him.” Jack sighed, tracing a hand along the bandages on the his guard’s torso. “Not even after…  _lifetimes_ worth of trying. I  _failed_.”

“The fact that you even kept  _trying_ for that long, though…” the ghoul trailed off for a moment, tracing circles in the small of his lover’s back. “You did all you  _could’ve_. And  _then_ some.”

Jack remained quiet, but he considered Edward’s words.

“Don’t take this the  _wrong way_ , Jack, but… maybe there  _was_ no saving him.”

“You speak as though it hasn’t crossed  _my_  mind as well.” the scientist chuckled just a bit, but the sound was hollow and bitter. “I’ve pondered exactly that…  _so_ often, but… I tried not to think it so frequently that it would be detrimental to my work. Perhaps you’re right, though. Maybe… it wasn’t meant to be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Edward. Not sure I’d have even made it this far if not for you. Or at the very least, not sure I’d have kept my sanity while getting here.”

“That  _last_ bit’s  _debatable_.”

For the first time since everything had unraveled, Jack felt a real, honest to goodness laugh rise from his chest, and an all too familiar sting in his eyes; just when he thought he’d run out of tears to cry.

His sniffling didn’t go unnoticed, and Edward felt his stomach flop as Jack raised a hand to wipe at his eyes. “Hey… I didn’t mean to-”

“No, Edward, it’s… this is the first I’ve laughed  _all damn day_.” Jack chuckled softly, nestling against him with another small sniffle. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He craned his neck enough to place a gentle kiss against his forehead before settling back into position. “Listen… I know you got  _all kinds of stuff_  runnin’ through your head right now, but…  _it’ll be alright_.”

“Hmm, you’re usually more of a  _realist_ than an  _optimist_.” Which roughly translated to  _you’re a terrible liar_.

“ _My gut_  tells me it’ll be alright.” Edward chuckled. “Besides, if there’s  _anyone_ who can figure somethin’ out… with the  _serum_ … it’s  _you_.”

Jack breathed a tired sigh and closed his eyes, the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I hope you’re right.”

They lay there a while longer, until the sound of feet shuffling upstairs began to disturb their peace.

“Might be time to rise an’ shine.” Edward grumbled.

“… can we just stay in bed?” Jack asked, voice grown feeble. Generally,  _he_  was the one who was up with the sun, on account of lack of sleep, or on account of his alarm clock. Staying in bed was an  _uncharacteristic_ request, but it was one that Edward would gladly humor, given the circumstances.

“ _'Course_  we can.”


	2. Lean On Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the lovely Ariejul for beta reading for me ♥

The air smelled of dust and decay and corrosion, and the smallest tinge of acrid radiation stung the back of his throat as Jack drew a deep breath, and  _ really took it all in _ \- with his eyes, with his ears, with his hands, and with his lungs - for the first time in what felt like forever. Unable to settle his nerves, he’d decided to step out for a bit - for some  _ fresh air _ , he’d said. The mere idea seemed ridiculous now.

Shifting his weight against the rusted railing beneath his fingers, and lowering his head, his gaze fell upon the current of water beneath him. He wondered, for a moment, where all the floating debris could possibly still be coming from, as he finally released the breath he’d pent up.

_ I suppose when you let yourself stagnate for two centuries, you tend to forget that life goes on, with or without you _ . He closed his eyes, wondering just how much had transpired in all that time he’d spent holed up in his family home, more or less safe from the unknown dangers lurking just outside their door.  _ Highly doubtful that anyone’s been keeping tabs on what might be worthy of making the history books, either. _

Approaching footsteps broke Jack from his reverie, but he didn’t have to look up to know who dared to intrude on his solitude. Impending threat was certainly the least of his concerns as the spot to his right was soon occupied by an all too familiar presence. They acknowledged one another with an exchange of glances and little more; the scientist offering unspoken permission for his bodyguard to linger there in his company for a while.

The ghoul took the last drag from the cigarette that bobbed between his shriveled lips, and flicked the butt into the river with the rest of the refuse and litter, before he likened his stance to Jack’s and leaned against the rough, oxidized metal railing. His bloodshot eyes took in the man next to him for a moment; he was all messy, wrinkled clothes, unkempt hair, and most certainly a sight for sore eyes. Though Edward supposed that wasn’t saying a whole lot, given their lack of sleep. A scoff of mild amusement found its way out of his nasal cavity, and he leaned his weight just enough to nudge Jack’s shoulder with his arm. Tired brown eyes met his own, and he offered a weak smile in return.

“How ya doin?” He rasped softly.

“Given the circumstances… okay, I suppose.” Jack chuckled bitterly. “It’s so…  _ strange _ . Last night, I kept telling myself that I just… need to take this a day at a time, and  _ not panic _ , but… if I’m being honest, I’m… not feeling much of  _ anything  _ today.”

“Nah, you’re feeling  _ something…  _ I can tell _ somethin’s  _ chewin’ at ya,” Edward spoke, scrutinizing every subtle shift in Jack’s expression. “What’s on your mind?”

After a long moment’s hesitation, he concedes.

“I… I want to go back.” He sighs. “But… if you’re not ready, I understand. You got pretty dinged up yesterday, and the  _ last  _ thing I want to do is put you right back in harm’s way.”

Edward’s expression grew thoughtful as he pondered what reasons Jack could possibly have for wanting to go back to that Gods-forsaken place, but it didn’t take him long to reach a conclusion. He supposed it was a reason  _ any  _ decent person could empathize with. “You wanna give him a proper burial.”

“As proper a burial as one can get these days. Not to be too brash, but… time is of the essence. Can’t afford to let matters…  _ deteriorate  _ too much further.” The words tasted bitter as they rolled off his tongue. He hated speaking of his father in such terms, but there was hardly any use sugar coating the matter. “If you’re not able yet, I  _ may  _ be able to swing it on my own-”

“Like  _ hell  _ you  _ will _ .” The ghoul huffed, mildly offended that Jack would even consider it; especially after everything that had happened the day before. “Nah. Just gimme another stimpak and bring a few extra supplies this time. I’ve got this.”

Though he was hardly surprised by Edward’s response, his tone was another story. He felt a small smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at the ghoul for a moment, before casting his eyes back down to the waters below.

“Any ideas where?” His guard asked. “Did you wanna’ bring him home?”

“This place is hardly the home he knew anymore.” Jack gave it a moment’s consideration. “It would almost feel  _ wrong  _ to bury him here. And… he  _ certainly  _ deserves better than to be buried at Parsons…  _ much less _ left to rot in his cell. No… the  _ least  _ he deserves is a proper burial. I’ll have to give location a bit more thought, I’m afraid. To be fair, though, I’d much rather have some ashes to spread... ”

“Cremation  _ would  _ be more  _ ideal _ , but… where would we even go about that this day and age?”

“Perhaps in one of those vaults… maybe in an old hospital, or a cemetary, perhaps, but without a proper power source, or the materials needed…  _ any _ of those is a shot in the dark.”

“Could always send ‘im off Viking style.”

“You jest, but it’s actually not a terrible idea.” Jack sneered. “He’d probably have liked the notion.”

Edward smiled. “Sounds like he was a pretty cool guy. Back when he was… well, himself.”

“He was.” The scientist cooed, a wistful tone in his voice as he clasped his hands. “He was always so warm, and he always had so many wonderful tales of his travels. I’ve missed it  _ so _ much. You probably would’ve gotten along well.”

The ghoul nudged his arm again, a bit more playfully this time as he flashed Jack a smile, in an attempt to lighten the mood. He thought, for a fleeting instant, to say how he wished he could’ve met Lorenzo, but that simply seemed in poor taste now, so he kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t have begun to imagine how many what-ifs had played out in the man’s wearied mind since the deed had been done, let alone the last four centuries, and he wasn’t about to scold him for indulging or vocalizing them or reminiscing. The wound was still plenty fresh.

Jack’s smile faded, and his eyes grew noticeably more avoidant. Try as he may, there was no escaping his troublesome thoughts. No amount of dodging or swerving would get him closer to the light at the end of this tunnel. But one particular, nagging thought was still weighing heavily on him at that junction -

“Edward… do you think... Emogene will come home in time?”

“Well… accordin’ to Adrian, she said she’ll be comin’ back soon, so with any luck…” Bloodshot eyes took in the scientist briefly, before skimming up to the deteriorating structures on the horizon, as Edward gave it some thought. He could practically feel the negative energy pouring off Jack. “How about we go inside for a bit and I’ll cook somethin’? Maybe you can try to eat a little.”

It didn’t take much coaxing or convincing, and for that, Edward was thankful.

  
  


Back inside, Jack occupied himself in his lab - leafing through innumerable and ageless files and folders and journals full of research, in what felt like an almost futile attempt to sort out what was still of importance.

_ Is any of it?  _ He wondered, a bitter chuckle rumbling from his throat. The query, while made out of pure spite, was still a legitimate one. A lot of notes on the artifact were still around, sure, but there were also fledgling notes and inkling ideas that always ended up taking the back seat, most of which he could scarcely even recall. Slowly, but surely, though, he began to sort the mess; began to decipher what could be tossed, and what was important enough to keep. Jack supposed he was always best at decluttering when fuelled by bitterness or ill will. Albeit, the dash of looming existential crisis was more of a push than he was accustomed to.

He wasn’t sure how much time had lapsed until a familiar tapping sound greeted his ears. He was met with a small smile, and a steaming bowl of soup.

“Thought you’d stand a better chance holdin’ down somethin’ light,” Edward explained, handing him the bowl. “Y’know, with your nerves an’ all.”

“Ah, thank you, Edward.” The scientist was gracious as he tipped the bowl back and took a sip. The warmth was a pleasant sensation, but it soon shifted to one of slight discomfort as it pooled in his otherwise empty stomach; a troublesome reminder of just how little he’d eaten. He hoped it would feel better once he’d drank some more.

“What’s with the mess?” His guard asked. “Little early for Spring cleanin’ aren’t ya?”

“Just sorting out what I don’t need anymore,” Jack said, taking another sip of the soup. “I do realize there’s…  _ a lot _ .”

“Kindling for the send-off?”

“Again, you joke, but… it’s not a bad idea.” He puts the warm bowl down for a moment to tab through another handful of papers and folders. Edward shuffled cautiously closer, and with a laboured breath, took a seat on the floor next to Jack, who couldn’t help but notice the strain in the ghoul’s grunt. “Goodness, I haven’t even asked today, have I? I’m so sorry. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“If I’m not used to you hyperfocusing after two hundred goddamn years, I’m never gonna’ be. Heh. Don’t sweat it. Wounds are still tender’s all.” He drew a sharp breath, but relaxed into position quickly enough. “Find anything interesting?”

Jack took a small bit of comfort in the words. Edward was always so understanding, and he wasn’t sure he deserved it most of the time. But he wasn’t about to take it for granted, either, and most certainly not at such a vital time. “Nothing much. A lot of old journals on my studies of the artifact, and the serum…”

He reached down to take another sip of his soup, and felt Edward’s weight and warmth beginning to press on his arm and his shoulder.  _ Guess it’s his turn to lean on me _ , Jack mused, breathing a pleased sigh as he rested his cheek against the ghoul’s hat;  _ a welcomed role reversal _ .

They sat that way, for a long while, Jack tabbing through the stacks of writings that were at arm’s length. Everything felt curiously peaceful - the hum of the machines in his lab nearly the only noise that dare pervade the house - aside from the soft snoring and rhythmic breathing near his ear that was a good indicator that Edward had dozed off, and the scientist dare not disturb him. Goodness knows he needed the rest. He wasn’t sure what his mother was up to - and he wasn’t sure he  _ wanted  _ to know. Mostly, he was just glad she was keeping her distance for the time being. It was hard to say if or when he’d be ready to break the news to her, but he’d certainly take whatever time was being afforded to him to prepare for it.

There was one short stack left within his reach, composed of journals and folders and papers he’d fished from his desk; the ones he’d deemed most important, or even  _ sentimental _ . One very familiar-looking, half-filled journal grabbed his attention immediately. It’s where he’d fairly recently begun to write out his most up-to-date notes on Lorenzo, and the artifact, and the serum, and everything that all of those entailed.  _ Guess this one won’t be terribly tedious to finish, will it? _ , he scoffed quietly, placing it atop the almost concerningly small ‘important’ pile.

His fingers traced along the cracked, faded leather cover of the journal that was next in the stack, pausing, almost questioning if it was what he thought it might have been. Just the sight of it jarred so many memories - memories of those days, weeks, and months right after the bombs fell - as he pulled it into his lap and flipped it open. Brown eyes skimmed across familiar, albeit yellowed pages, and Jack felt a strange emotion stirring inside him; it was vague, but it was some sense of  _ yearning _ , with just a touch of the sense of  _ purpose _ he felt back when he’d first scrawled onto these pages. But the sensation soon fizzled to one of sadness - the thought that he may very well never get to feel that sense of purpose again, and, once more, he was faced with the realization of just how much of his long life had been spent  _ stagnant _ .

_ Over 400 years old, and how many of those have I actually  _ **_lived_ ** _? _ He pondered, flipping another page. A piece of paper slid loose from its confines - thick and yellowed and with ragged edges - catching Jack’s interest. He picked it up and turned it over, finding a family portrait on the other side; at least, one with himself, Emogene, and their mother. There was no saying when it was taken, but it brought a smile to his face nonetheless.

“You brought that along while we were holed up at Parsons.” Edward rasped as he nestled his face closer against Jack’s shoulder, and readjusted himself slightly. “For when you started missin’ ‘em.”

His voice, and the fact that he was already awake again, hardly came as a surprise as Jack chuckled, but the fact that the ghoul had such keen memory really tugged at his heart strings. “…  _ yeah _ .”

“Guess that’s the journal you kept while we were there, then?”

“ _ It is _ . If memory serves, a lot of notes on what was happening inside the asylum, and what we could see of the surrounding area, and…” Jack trailed off as he flipped another page, almost not wanting to vocalize it. But he knew he really didn’t have to, either.

“- and keepin’ tabs on all that pokin’ and proddin’ you did on me, most likely.” Edward laughed, and it proved infectious. The scientist’s face broke out into a smile, and he wriggled his hand between them to find his bodyguard’s, intertwining their fingers and giving a firm squeeze; almost as if to reassure and remind himself that the ghoul was, in fact, still there with him.

“Yes  _ Poking  _ and  _ prodding _ ,  _ pacing  _ and  _ worrying _ ,  _ stressing  _ and  _ crying _ ... what-have-you.” Thankful as he was that Edward managed to pull through in one way or another, and even moreso that he could retain a sense of humor about it all, he still hated thinking about it too much. “But you’re still here, and that’s what’s most important.”

Jack traced his thumb along the ghoul’s gnarled digits, remembering just how fascinating his transition was back then, and thinking on just how much he still had to learn about the whole process.

“That was the last time I was actually  _ excited  _ to work on something, you know? It was something  _ new  _ and  _ different _ , something there’s still  _ so little _ proper scientific understanding of,” he lamented. “I wanted to learn  _ so much more _ , but…”

“It always took the back burner.” Edward sighed. “Well… maybe now you can finally do it.”

“Edward, I… I  _ know  _ you mean well, and…” The ghoul’s words left him taken aback, if not a bit frustrated, as he furrowed his brow. “You keep speaking so  _ optimistically _ , but -”

“- and  _ you  _ keep assumin’ the worst.” His guard interjected. “You didn’t give up on your old man for  _ 400 years _ . Are you really gonna’ sit here, look me in the eyes, and tell me you’re just gonna’ throw in the towel now? After everything? You never gave up on him, so don’t give up on yourself.”

Jack furrowed his brow. Perhaps he had a point. Wallowing in his pity, at least for an extended period, wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He’d be wise to get back to studying the serum - and looking for an alternative, or some way to alter it to prolong its effects - sooner rather than later. If he wanted to turn things around, time was no longer on his side, and it hadn’t quite dawned on him until it had come from Edward’s mouth.

“You can’t lose all hope, Jack. I know stuff seems grim right now, but… I’ve seen you do amazing things. I’ve got absolute faith you can do it. For Christ’s sake, you gotta’  _ try _ , at least.” Edward huffed a tired breath, his voice taking a softer, more earnest tone as he squeezed Jack’s hand. “And maybe it’s a little selfish of me, but…what the hell am I supposed do if somethin’ happens to you?”

A solitary laugh escaped Jack’s lungs, and he felt a smile coming on again, but he let Edward speak his peace.

“By all means, take the time ya’ need to process everything, but… don’t let it eat away at ya. I wanna’ see you finally have the chance to live for  _ yourself _ . God knows you deserve at least that much after all this,” his bodyguard continued. “I wanna’ see you able to do the things you always wanted to. Learn new things. See life outside of these walls. Take all those  _ wild ideas _ of yours and finally be able to  _ do  _ somethin’ with ‘em. Get out and  _ live _ .”

“That all sounds pretty nice… so long as you’re along for the ride.”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times;  _ you’re stuck with me _ .” Edward half-laughed, half-groaned.

“I know.” Jack cooed, his face breaking into a grin. “I just enjoy hearing it is all.”

“I  _ know  _ you do. You know  _ damn well _ you got me wrapped around your finger,” his guard’s hoarse voice came, barely veiling the laughter beneath it. “You smug little shit.”

They both shared an honest-to-goodness laugh for a moment before Edward’s demeanor shifted to something more serious. Carefully, he sat upright, straightened his posture, and turned to address Jack more properly.

“Listen… I’m gonna’ make you a deal, okay? You gimme another stimpak, and gather a few supplies. We’ll head back to Parsons. It’s still pretty early yet. We can probably make it back here before dark if we play our cards right-”

“ _ Edward _ .” there was a mildly scolding tone in Jack’s voice, but the ghoul simply shook his head. He’d already decided he wanted to do it, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. The scientist didn’t have to protest any further to figure that much out. It was far from the first time they’d had a similar conversation.

“We’re gonna’ go get your old man, and we’re gonna’ bring him back here… ‘til you figure out where we’re gonna’ do this. That’ll give your ma and Emogene a chance to say their goodbyes. And when you’re ready, we’re gonna’ give ‘im the send-off he deserves.”

Through misty eyes, Jack flashed a bittersweet smile and nodded. “And what’s my end of this bargain?”

“Put even just  _ half  _ as much effort into finding a workaround, or  _ some kinda’ alternative _ for the serum as you did trying to save your old man,” Edward admonished. “It’s gonna’ take time, and it’s not necessarily gonna’ be easy, but put even just  _ half  _ that much effort, and I have every bit of faith you’ll…  _ we’ll _ actually  _ have  _ a future to look forward to. But you’ve gotta’  _ try _ , Jack. Think you can do that?”

“I think I can,” Jack conceded, closing his eyes for a moment. Edward’s spiel had actually given him some semblance of hope, but  _ goodness  _ was he grateful for it. “I can’t promise I won’t still need a kick in the ass every now and again if I get too mopy, though.”

“That can be arranged.”

Breathing a contented sigh, Jack closed the journal in his lap and placed it atop the ‘important’ pile, turning to face Edward. “Guess we should get moving, then, hm,?”

  
  


The fact that his old satchel hadn’t crumbled to dust in the 200-odd years it was in storage came as a bit of a surprise to Jack - let alone the fact that it was still  _ usable _ . It was a pleasant surprise, though, he reckoned, as he packed some medical supplies. He thought, for a moment, to change his clothes, but the dirt and the dried blood from the day before were clear indicators that it simply wasn’t worth the effort. Having decided a coat may not be the worst idea, though, he slipped into the one that he found stored, folded underneath of the bag he’d unearthed - Edward’s old field jacket, he recalled; it was large on him, but it was well worn-in, and it was warm. It had served him well on his trips between their family home and the asylum after the bombs had fallen.

And now he got to wear it on one more such trip. He draped the bag over his shoulder and across his chest as he made his way back upstairs to find Edward.

He found him with ease - standing in the foyer, near the front door, and trying his damnedest to get his chest piece back on.  “Here - let me help you with that.”

Edward was hardly in a position to protest; they’d both been in this predicament  _ so many times before _ . But he did smile a little at the sight of the scientist as he adjusted the chunky piece of metal. “Damn. Lookin’ half-way like a proper wastelander. Haven’t seen those in a while.”

“Not since the last time I made regular trips to and from -” Jack said, his hands staying busied with what seemed like excessive buttons and straps on the ever so aggravating piece of combat armor. “How are you feeling? Did the other stimpak help?”

“Better.”

“I have some Med-X if need be-”

“You know I only take that shit as a last resort.” Edward scoffed. It was true, though - if he wasn’t turning away a dose of Med-X, it was a sure sign that things were dire. “I’m good.”

Though he wanted to fuss over Edward’s condition a bit more, he saw better fit to let it go. The ghoul insisted he was okay, so Jack accepted that he would have to take that at face value. Snapping the last button shut, he did a once-over to make sure everything was strapped and latched where it was supposed to be. “Everything  _ looks  _ okay. It’s not hurting you, is it?”

“It’s as comfy as it can be, everything considered.” His bodyguard said. “You ready to head out?”

“Ready as I can be, everything considered.” Jack echoed, garnering a small laugh from the ghoul.

“I, uh... already went upstairs and told your ma that we’re heading back to tie up some loose ends...”

The scientist nearly felt his blood run cold. “What… what did she-”

“Don’t worry. I told her you’d talk to her when you were ready.” He offered a weak smile to try to settle Jack’s nerves, though he wasn’t sure how effective it really was. “She seemed alright with it. At least, after some  _ convincing _ . Because, let’s face it, it’s  _ Wilhelmina _ . Mostly just didn’t want her to freak out if she found an empty house, y’know?”

“All too well… thank you, Edward.”

“  _ ‘Course. _ ”

“… no sense delaying any further, I suppose.” Jack sighed. “Shall we?”

“Right behind ya, Jack.”

Jack shut and locked the door behind them, looking out at the end of the drive and feeling a pang in his stomach. He drew a deep breath, musty air filling his lungs, and he felt so overwhelmingly small all of the sudden. But the feeling of rough fingers sliding their way between his own brought him back to earth - he looked up at Edward, who offered him a reassuring nod, and somehow felt alright again. Finally, he put one foot in front of the other, beginning their trek. Each step he took became easier, and before long, they were crossing the bridge that led to Bunker Hill.

As they approached the gate, though, a familiar voice could be heard nearby, bading someone goodbye - both men paused and exchanged knowing looks, but not a moment had passed before they saw the face to match it coming their direction.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw them, a bewildered look on her face. Her lips parted to speak, but no words came.

“Emogene...” Jack mouthed thoughtlessly, surprise apparent in his voice.

“Yeah, I was just about to head home…” she finally mustered, still off put. She furrowed her brow, glancing over at Edward, before she shifted her focus back to her brother. “What… is going on? Jack, you  _ never  _ leave the house, why-”

“We’re going back to Parsons,” he explained, voice grown feeble. He cast his eyes down, unable to look her in the eye as he elaborated. “We’re going to… bring father home.”

“Wait, what do you mean, you’re  _ bringing him home _ ?” Emogene was at a loss - there were only two situations that came to mind that would result in Jack even  _ thinking  _ to try bringing Lorenzo home - either he’d finally been successful in removing the artifact, or… the alternative. She could assume it was nothing good from the way Jack avoided her gaze, and the uncharacteristic droop in his entire demeanor. There was a certain air of bleakness etched onto his features, and as the mist in his eyes grew heavier, it became all too easy to draw her conclusion. She felt her chest clench, and her heart drop, and her eyes stinging. “Oh my God…”

“I’m so sorry, Emogene,” Her brother spoke, voice cracking as he was finally able to look her in the eye. “Things escalated so quickly, and so much happened, it… it was all I could do.  _ I’m so sorry _ .”

She stared in disbelief for a long moment, trying to process it all, before she crossed her arms tightly and cast her bitter, tearful eyes down to the ground. There was a visible tremble in her limbs, and a tapping of her right foot that was almost certainly nerve-driven as she worried at her lip and did her best to fight her tears, but it hardly seemed to help her as they spilled from her eyes.

“There’s nothin’ anyone coulda’ done any differently, Emogene,” Edward attempted, trying to offer her some small semblance of comfort. “If he got out, we  _ all  _ know what woulda’ happened.”

“ _ Yeah _ . And I wasn’t even  _ there _ .” She seethed; it seemed as though she was more angry with herself than she was with either or them. After a long moment’s fight with her emotions, she looked up at the two men in front of her. “You guys are going right now?”

“Ah… yes.” Jack stammered.

“Alright,” She nodded to herself, a silent debate scrawled onto her face. Shaky hands wiped at her puffy eyes, and she did her best to regain her composure. “I’m going with you.”

“Emogene, are… are you sure?” Jack asked. “Mother has been worried -”

“What,  _ am I sure _ I wanna’ help bring  _ my dead father _ home?” She hissed. “Yeah, Jack, I’m  _ pretty damn sure _ . Now let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥
> 
> This is the beginning of my first ambitious fanfic adventure in a very long time; my intentions are to write the last of their time in Boston, including experimenting with the Serum and tying up loose ends, to chronicle bits and pieces of their journey west, and to get them established in New Vegas. I hope you guys enjoyed it so far, and that you come back for more!


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